AN: First of all, huge credit to the motivation behind this fic goes to "Finding Home" by cywsaphyre. That story really got me going into writing again. Also, thank you cywsaphyre for giving me permission to write this piece after reading "Finding Home." This story takes some elements of it, but hopefully I can make the plot grow into something own my own design.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will own it, never writing another disclaimer for this story because it's a pain so there's my disclaimer (come to think of it, I don't think I ever did a disclaimer for my other story… whoops).


Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, was a legend among wizards throughout Great Britain, and to no small extent, the world. Born on the 31st of July, in 1980. The defeater of Lord Voldemort on May 2nd, 1998. The Chosen One prophesized to save the world. The savior-who-disappeared from the world immediately after the death of Voldemort.

At the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry's closest friends saw the curse rebound on Voldemort, effectively killing him and marking the end of an era of suffering, but they were horrified to see another sight. The magic that had ruined Voldemort remained suspended in the air, hovering over the ex-dark lord's body. Whirling around and collecting together, it slowly gained speed and formed a seemingly harmless ball of electric blue magic. Pure magic in its unaltered form some scholars called it later on as they tried to investigate the disappearance of the great Harry Potter.

The ball promptly stopped swirling after all the wisps and had joined together, and for a few seconds, everyone awaited with baited breath, unsure of what to do. It then shot forward, straight through Harry's heart, his eyes wide open in surprise as he felt himself being pushed by this magical force through the air. Faintly hearing his friends and battle-weary comrades yelling his name as his body flew away, he could only look on in horror as his home, Hogwarts, disappeared from his view and become replaced with tall buildings made of iron and metal, filled with electricity before blacking out completely on the concrete sidewalk.


"Are you sure he just appeared out of thin air?"

"Yes! I saw it with my own eyes! Bruised and battered, broken bones, blood on his body, everything! That's why I brought him here. Can you treat him?"

"We'll try our best ma'am. That's all we can promise."

Hearing the sound of footsteps leaving, Harry Potter wearily opened his eyes. His head ached like no others and the injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts did not help at all. It seemed he was in a bed, being carted off through various hallways.

"Are you awake son?" the man dressed in a white lab coat asked.

His face was filled with wrinkles and had a salt-and-pepper colored mustache matching his short hair. He seemed worried, yet also a little bewildered still by the woman's story.

'American,' Harry figured from his accent.

"Yes…" he managed to groan out.

"Good, I don't know where you got all these injuries from and I'm sure you're not in any state to tell us yet, but you should know that a very nice lady dropped you off here when… as she says… you fell from the sky in a flash of blue. Don't know how much credit I put into that theory, but there you go nevertheless," the doctor explained with a skeptical look on his face as he continued pushing Harry.

"Where am I?"

The doctor looked nonplussed at this question, assuming some head trauma was involved in messing with the poor boy's thought process at the moment, "You're at the Ronald Reagen UCLA Medical Center."

Harry's mind blanked, he had never heard of such a place before, but it sounded like a muggle hospital by what little he could gleam from it. White lab coats, people sitting and waiting in chairs, workers running in and out of rooms with different equipment. Harry couldn't see very clearly with his broken glasses, but he could at least get that much from his surroundings.

Harry weakly rummaged his pockets and at least found Draco's wand in his pockets, the one he had claimed and used against Voldemort, and yet surprisingly, in his other pocket he felt another wand, and a stone, and some kind of cloth. Harry felt a shiver run up his spine while simultaneously feeling some dry humor at how all three fit in his pocket. The objects were dangerous, he knew, but he was glad that they were here in this foreign land with him, regardless of the implication of their presence.

The doctor pushed the cart into an empty room and said, "Now rest here for a while. Sleep if you can because you look tired. From what I see, nothing is life threatening, but we need a deeper check-up soon to make sure everything's okay. I'll be back to perform that after I attend to some patients."

With that, the wizened man left.

Harry groaned slightly as he tried to move once again. Despite all of his cuts and bruises, he was quite fine. Still, he felt sore and did have an unbearable headache. Taking another deep breath, Harry forced himself up. He knew he couldn't stay here because the workers there were bound to ask questions he couldn't even answer himself.

'But where do I go? What do I do?' Harry thought to himself.

He looked up in a corner of the room and saw a large, yet thin television. Thinking back to his time with the Dursleys, he never remembered the telly being so thin and filled with that much vibrant color. Looking around he noticed all of the hospital equipment being quite advanced, or at least, Harry assumed so because he had never seen the things.

'First thing I need to do is figure out where I am,' Harry thought.

Closing the blinds, Harry quickly cleaned up his smaller injuries with some quick mutterings of Episkey. Then, he cast a few charms to change his appearance before stepping outside, looking like a normal visitor to the hospital. Walking around, he saw people on tiny little phones, much more advanced than those old mobile phones muggles seemed to have last time he checked. Furthermore, as he approached what he assumed to be the front desk, he saw a woman on what looked to be a computer. Harry never really used one himself, but from what he saw in the library, they were heavy, large, and relatively useless for anything except for calculations. Of course he didn't put much stock into it because the wizarding world was less-than-favorable when it came to muggle technology, but he did not expect it to be so small and sleek-looking. The screen was filled with colors and lots of different… programs… were opened up.

This cultural… and frankly life-shattering… shock made Harry wobble slightly. Pulling himself together, he spoke to the woman on the small computer.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me the time and date?" Harry asked.

The woman looked up at the oddly-placed British accent, but nodded and checked her calendar, "It's 12:30PM, and today is… May 2nd, 2006."

Harry blanched at that and the woman, looking oddly at his odd expression, asked, "Are you okay?"

Snapping out of his stupor, "I'm… quite alright," Harry said, and with a quiet thanks, walked out of the room and soon after, out of the hospital and into the world.


Four years had passed since that fateful day, and Harry Potter became Harry Evans, resident of Los Angeles. The first thing he had tried to do when he got out of the hospital was to look for any possible connection to the wizarding world he could find. For some reason, however, there was absolutely no way he was able to contact the American Ministry, short of creating some gigantic spectacle of magic, something he didn't fancy doing. When he tried apparating to Diagon Alley, he found it completely inaccessible via apparition, and when he tried going through the Leaky Cauldron, he found it non-existent. In fact, any trace of the wizarding world in Britain, Grimmauld Place, the Burrow, Hogsmeade, they did not exist.

This first month of Harry's new life found him confused, lost, and unsure of himself. He had spent every day looking for a trace of his old life, apparating back and forth to Britain to investigate on weekends while finding small work as a street magician on the weekdays to pay for his small LA apartment. He would've spent more time searching, but he had to make a living and intercontinental apparition was extremely tiring, and it was only through the Elder Wand and his experience in the war improving his stamina that he made it. He honestly did not know what to do, however, because it appeared like magic itself had disappeared from the world save for himself. He was the only wizard he knew, and the thought of it scared him.

Still, now, he came to find acceptance in it. After all that fruitless searching, Harry knew he had to move on with his life, because the world was filled with both danger and opportunity, and if he stayed moping, he would find the first one rather than the latter. So, while he worked during the day, he began to immerse himself in reading books from the library at night. The world had changed during his long absence, and he was determined to catch up with it.

Harry reveled in the intellectual growth of humans during the past 8 years, where muggles discovered things that the wizarding world had taken for granted or had not bothered learning. That, along with their use of technology, astounded Harry as even within a few years, progress was made in leaps and bounds. As he made enough money, Harry began tinkering on his own through books as guidance, as well as the Internet, once he had enough money for a computer.

While his first year was a flop in terms of his own personal discoveries, Harry learned many things as he worked with whatever technology he could get his hands on, from remotes to old computers. With it, he also began to look into a broader range of subjects, beginning to read on different aspects of physics and chemistry. He was no genius, but over time, he felt himself adequately prepared enough to join as a volunteer at nearby research institutions and over the course of the past few years, managed to co-publish some research papers with colleagues and gained revenue as a researcher, eventually allowing him to drop acting as a street performer.

Despite all of these amazing muggle discoveries, however, Harry did not neglect his magic. While it had all but vanished from the world, Harry, with the use of the Elder Wand, found himself more adept to wielding magic. He could cast wandless and silent spells with ease and with that, Harry could perform spells he did not have a name for, because as long as he had the will, power, and direction for it, he could do a variety of things with magic. Maybe it was a side-effect of becoming the Master of Death, but Harry was glad for this ability because without any other information on magic, his learning would have been at a standstill for the most part because all he knew was what he learned thus far from Hogwarts and from the war.

Harry refused to have anything to do with the cracked Resurrection Stone, however, and only used the Invisibility Cloak sparingly because he never needed to really sneak around.

All in all, Harry felt freer than ever once he came to terms with his situation. No longer was he bothered by the government or by some dark lord. In fact, the time he had was his and no one else's. While he made a few acquaintances in the lab, he never spent too much time with human interaction in the past few years, enjoying the quietness his new life granted him. Whenever his colleagues went out for drinks after some breakthrough or a published paper, Harry would politely decline and return to his apartment, either to practice magic or research more.

The one thing Harry was not sure of, however, was how to deal with being the Master of Death. By owning the three Deathly Hallows, he was the Master, but he had no clue what it entailed. Quite frankly, death didn't scare him at all, especially after the events of the war. But this new position brought new responsibilities, and he did not know what he had become a part of. Harry was by no means immortal, at least from what he could tell, as he continued to age normally. He left it alone, however, because he did not want to dabble any farther with the possibilities when he was content enough with his own life.

Harry Evans, at the age of 22, finally felt some semblance of peace in his life. Content with where he was, excited to research and learn more, and constantly improving his magic, Harry could finally admit to himself that, despite all of his problems and lack of a wizarding world, he could enjoy normalcy. At least until he went to New Mexico and an organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D interfered.


Harry should've known to kept a low profile after everything he went through, but he enjoyed research because he was recognized because of his own works, not for being the boy-who-lived or some glorified Chosen One. Of course, his abilities as a researcher pulled him into S.H.I.E.L.D at first and explained why he was in this predicament. Attention, even the slightest, can bring issues.

His boss told Harry and his colleagues that there was an opportunity in New Mexico. Something about a hammer defying the laws surrounding physics and electromagnetism, and that they were offered a large sum of money to join the research team and would be leaving that night. Harry found himself curious about this object and wanted to see it for himself, because it was the first possible interaction he could have with something that couldn't be explained. Something like magic. And so, packing all of his important belongings with him, including some books and the Deathly Hallows (he would never leave it there for someone to steal if he was going to be gone for this long), he joined most of the team and headed to New Mexico in a private jet provided by this unknown benefactor.


When he got there, Harry learned about this organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D, which stood for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. He thought he had seen some pretty big cover-ups back when he had to deal with the Ministry of Magic, but this was on a whole different level. Red tape surrounded the entire operation, and as soon as the research team had gotten on the ground, they were forced to swear oaths to secrecy and sign wavers. Harry didn't mind this too much, because as legally binding as they were, he could easily interfere with his own abilities if need be.

No, what really interested Harry was the mystical hammer that was said to have fallen from the sky. He, along with the rest of the team, had spent all night trying to figure out why no one could lift the large, yet deceptively normal, hammer. Curiously, Harry had tried to reach out to it with magic, but even then it wouldn't respond. From what Harry could figure out, it was definitely not from the earth. Scientists were constantly running diagnostics and experiments on the hammer and the environment around it, but they came up with nothing.

But then came the madman who had attempted to raid the camp and retrieve the hammer, only to be captured, and then subsequently escape. From what Harry could hear, he seemed to speak in an old tongue, yet one used to authority and power. He had a dirty blonde, tangled mane and, to Harry, seemed completely out of place with the world around him. Try as the man might though, he could not lift the hammer, and as Harry looked on curiously, seemed to break down because of it.


Harry sighed, slightly sympathetic at the man's helplessness as he had felt similarly once upon a time. He was packing all his stuff up after the excitement of the last day. They were cleaning up the lab and were moving on. Apparently there had been an incident with some extraterrestrials in the town of Puente Antiguo, and while it had been resolved, Harry had seen and heard enough. He had already dealt with enough oddities for his lifetime, and when it was clear this was not going to lead him any closer to the wizarding world, there was no point in staying.

Harry actually felt a bit guilty about taking the job in the first place, because he had thought he had long resigned himself to living this life in the muggle community. Yet here he was, jumping at the slightest opportunity to search for remnants of his past. Shaking his head in annoyance, he put the last shirt in his suitcase to head on the next flight home when his path was blocked.

Standing in the doorway was a man, most likely in his late 40s, dressed up in a regular black suit and tie, who appeared to be all business despite the slightly goofy smile on his face.

"Agent Phil Coulson," the man said, walking forward and extending his hand out, "S.H.I.E.L.D."

Harry looked at the hand hesitantly but took it nevertheless, "Harry Evans, small-time researcher."

Coulson raised his eyebrow at the word small-time before nodding and saying, "We have somebody who would like to speak to you."

"As you can see," Harry said, gesturing to his suitcase, "I'm about to leave with my team. Is this really important?"

Coulson merely nodded and was about to open his mouth when a deeper, gravelly voice sounded behind him.

"Yes, it's very important Mr. Evans, or should I say, Mr. Potter."

Harry froze at the statement and peered warily behind Agent Coulson. Standing firmly, with his hands behind his back, was a relatively bulky African American. He was dressed in all black and had an eyepatch on one eye. As Harry squinted, he could see some kind of scarring in the area around the patch.

"Who are you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"The better question is who are you, Mr. Potter?" the mysterious man said, "Harry Evans the researcher? The nameless street performer? Or wizarding savior, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived?"


AN: What am I doing with my life? Ugh, an almost full year later, and yet here I am, writing a completely new story. I blame watching the Avengers with my friends the other day. That and reading the great story "Finding Home" by cywsaphyre. (Read that story, it's really really good). I hate myself so much, but that story and the movie inspired me to take a stab at the constantly growing crossovers between Harry Potter and the Avengers. To be honest, this probably isn't my best work because I did this while I was supposed to be working on internship projects (I got an internship yay!), but I haven't gotten anything to work on yet that I haven't finished. Soooo yeah.

And to the fans of Defendo et Spes… if I have any that is, don't worry, I expect to have a chapter of that up and running once again by… the end of June. I think. I hope. It's not dead, I promise you that, but this is a plot bunny I need to get out of my head. Sorry I've been dead for about a year, but university, while great, has been a pain in the butt, so much work and responsibility to deal with. At least it's summer and so I'm back, for a while! See you all soon!